The Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance (52 page)

Within another hour, the men had a large piece of meat roasting over an open fire. Cian had avoided her for most of the time, and she wasn’t sure why. Only three other men joined them, and she noticed that there were no women and children.

The deserted ring fort had a ghostly aura to it, as though the remaining inhabitants had died. Mary rubbed her arms for warmth, trying not to wonder why everyone was gone.

Cian saw the direction of her gaze, and it was then that he noticed her cleaning efforts. He spoke quietly to Brían, who nodded and pointed back to her. Mary tried to smile, but her mouth wouldn’t quite work. Cian’s expression didn’t exactly look pleased, and suddenly she was reminded of Garrett’s complaints.

Why do you always feel the need to clean up after other people? If I put my beer down, you don’t have to recycle the bottle right away.

She’d thought she was keeping her apartment clean, making it a pleasant space for both of them. It was easier to clean up along the way, rather than spend hours trying to shovel out a week’s worth of living. Efficient and tidy – that was the way she liked it.

But now, she had an Irish warrior staring at her as though she’d riffled through his undergarments. He crossed over to her and handed her a generous portion of venison on one of the wooden plates she’d scoured. The gesture was completely at odds with the grim look on his face.

Mary murmured her thanks and Cian stood in front of her as if trying to choose the right words. She avoided his gaze, afraid she’d overstepped her boundaries. When the seconds shifted into minutes, she broke the silence. “Aren’t you going to eat something?”

“In a moment.”

She dug into the venison, pretending as though the meat was the most fascinating object on the planet.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why what?”

“Why did you spend hours cleaning this . . . place? It means nothing to you.” He glanced around as though he expected it to crumble into the ground. And perhaps he wanted it to. The mess she’d tidied had represented months of neglect, like a man who didn’t care any more.

But he’d given her shelter and food, and this was a way to repay him. She’d wanted to make herself useful, bringing a little bit of his home back.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said. “I just thought it might help you.” Before he could say a word, she added, “But if you’d rather I put things back, I can. Well, probably not the trash or the animal hides. We burned those, but I could probably—”

He put his hand over her mouth, cutting off her senseless babble. “It was kind of you.”

There was a flicker behind his shielded emotions of a grateful man. And just as quickly, it disappeared. He picked at the venison on his own plate, not even attempting conversation. It was as if the man she’d met this morning had gone. Whatever he’d seen in his vision had completely transformed him. He was acting as if she had a dreaded disease and he didn’t want to be near her any more. It disconcerted her, reminding her of Garrett’s rejection.

Mary needed to lighten the mood, to somehow make him see that she wasn’t any threat. “What do you do at night, to entertain each other?”

Cian shrugged. “We’re not much for singing or storytelling. Sometimes a game of dice, if we’re feeling up to it.”

“What about sports?” At his blank look, she amended, “Games with a ball?”

Brían had overheard their conversation and spoke rapidly to Cian. A few moments later, he returned with a round leather ball. It wasn’t quite what she’d envisioned, but it might work.

She hefted the ball in one hand. It was slightly larger than a softball, and the weight was manageable. “Want to play?”

His blue eyes turned dark with another meaning, one she hadn’t intended. He looked at her as though he wanted to kiss her again and, Lord help her, she wouldn’t mind so much. Cian MacCorban was incredibly handsome, and she’d always had a weakness for a sexy knight with a sword. Or, in this case, an Irish chief.

Cian ordered the men to gather round and they each took turns lobbing the ball at a crooked fence post. Each time they missed, they took a swig of mead from a drinking horn. When her own ball fell short, Cian handed over the horn. “Drink.”

“No, really, I’m not thirsty.”

“It’s your penalty,
a stór.
For missing the target.” He shot her a wicked smile, and her good sense melted like butter in a hot skillet. His hands curved over hers as he lifted the horn to her mouth. The mead tasted sweeter than she’d expected, but the fermented drink was strong.

“I’d better not miss too often,” she said. “Or else I’ll be so drunk you’ll have to carry me to bed.”

His smile deepened, and Mary’s face turned bright red at the unintended innuendo. “It would be my honour,
a stór.”

That was when the cheating began. At first, it seemed unintentional. A light brush against her shoulder when she threw the ball. Then Cian sneezed loudly at the moment she aimed at the target.

Mary wasn’t about to let cheaters prosper. No, she stretched her arms up, letting the edge of the man’s tunic she wore bare the skin of her shoulder. She stood beside Cian, whispering an innocent question in his ear when he tried to throw the ball.

In the end, her head was buzzing, and she felt like she was standing outside of herself. She’d never been this uninhibited before. It was like being among a group of brothers, who had no qualms about wrestling in front of her or daring her to drink another swallow of mead.

Later that night, Cian dragged her away, sweeping her into his arms. Both of them were laughing, and she found herself feeling better than she had in years. He brought her inside his roundhouse, and she held tightly to his neck.

Perhaps it was her impending death that made her so bold. Lord knew, she wasn’t the kind of woman who drank more than a glass of wine or two. And she certainly had never kissed a man within an hour of meeting him.

Cian was holding her body as though she weighed nothing. Slowly, he lowered her to stand in front of him, but she didn’t let go of him.

“Why is this place abandoned?” she whispered. “Why are there no women or children?”

The pain returned to his face, the edge of a man who shouldered endless guilt. “They left of their own accord. Because of me.”

“What could you possibly have done?” She traced her hand down his jawline, noting the scar upon his chin. This was a man who must have seen the face of death, over and over.

“It isn’t what I did. It’s what I saw. My curse.” He released her and went to the door. “But you needn’t trouble yourself over it. I’ll send Brían to find your family, and they’ll take you home.”

“I have no home or family. Not any more.” The cold shivers ran through her once again, and she clutched at her elbows. “I don’t even know how I got here.”

“Or what happened to your clothes?” he said grimly.

“No.” It was the only truth she could give him and, right now, she sensed he was going to leave her. “Will you stay with me?” She moved towards him, her knees swaying slightly from all the mead she’d drunk. “I’d rather not be alone tonight.”

His expression grew haggard. “I’m going to get you some stones from the fire outside. They will keep this space warm.”

You could keep me warm,
she almost said. But then that was the mead responding, not her brain.

When he’d left, Mary sank down on the rough pallet, staring up at the thatched ceiling. She hadn’t allowed herself to be afraid before. But now, the fear coursed through her veins, filling her up inside. She had never really believed in the supernatural, but now, it seemed her life depended on it. There was no real proof that she would die on the morning of the third day. Then again, she’d watched her body fall lifeless into the fairy circle. She’d been sent back in time nearly a thousand years and had spoken to a man the size of her arm.

You’re either going crazy, or this is real.

Cian returned, using the butt of a spear to roll several heated stones into the space. And she knew that if she didn’t do something, he was going to leave her. He arranged the stones and stood back.

“Sleep now. In the morning, we’ll decide what to do.”

When he tried to leave, she blocked the doorway. “Cian, did I do something wrong?”

He rested his hand upon the wall. “No, there’s nothing.”

There was a look of indecision on his face, as though he wanted a reason to stay, but honour prevented it.

“I had fun tonight,” she whispered, touching her hand to his face. “Even if I can’t play ball to save my life.”

His face furrowed at her phrasing, and she reminded herself to watch the way she spoke.

“It’s been a long time since I had a reason to laugh,” he admitted. Cian covered her hand with his own. For a long moment, he looked upon her, his gaze searching.

I can be more spontaneous, she thought to herself. Maybe it’s time to be impulsive.

Although the engineer inside protested at what she was about to do, playing her life safe had never gotten her anywhere. She had less than two days left, so why not?

Mary stood on her tiptoes, her face nearing Cian’s. She moved slowly, giving him every chance to pull away. Instead, his mouth came down upon hers, kissing her like a desperate man. She clung to him, unable to catch her breath. His arms slipped around her waist, lifting beneath the tunic to her bare back. He worshipped her skin with his hands, pulling her tightly against his body.

Too fast. She couldn’t stop the rush of feelings, nor rein in her own response. But common sense evaporated in the intensity of his kiss. He threaded his hands through her hair, altering the embrace until he laid her down upon the pallet. She tasted the mead upon his tongue, the intensity of his desire for her. And when at last he broke away, she pleaded, “Stay with me tonight. Don’t go.”

He cursed, dragging his mouth against her lips for another kiss. “I’ll sleep in this hut, to keep you safe. But I swear, I won’t dishonour you.”

“Please stay. That’s all I ask.”

He slept on the opposite side of the hut, atop a folded cloak. In the middle of the night, she heard him awaken. The nightmare caught him and he started speaking Irish, his words tangled up with fear. Mary felt her way towards him and knelt down.

“Cian, wake up. It’s only a dream.”

He reached out and pulled her to him. His body was trembling, and she soothed him, running her hands over his tight muscles. “It’s OK. I’m here.”

His breathing was unsteady, and at last he seemed to realize where he was. “I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep.”

“Isn’t that what most people do at night?”

“Not me.” He sat up, but Mary supported his weight, her arms still around him. “I try not to sleep. Then, when I must, I sleep so hard the dreams don’t come.”

That explained why his eyes were always so tired. “It’s not healthy.”

“Neither are my dreams.”

“What did you dream of?” He remained silent, and she had a sudden suspicion. “Did you dream of me?”

She rose up on her knees, turning to face him. In the darkness, she couldn’t see his face, but she touched his shoulders. “Tell me what you saw.”

“Don’t you understand?” he whispered. “My dreams come true. All of them have happened, just as I saw them.”

“You dreamed of me. You said you’d been waiting twenty years.”

He emitted a harsh laugh. “Aye. Twenty years for the worst nightmare of all my days.”

He took both of her wrists in his hands. “I saw you dying, just now. I saw you in my arms, the moment the last breath of life left you. Just as I saw the deaths of each of my family and friends. It’s why they left. Why they all leave.”

“Everyone dies,” she said softly. “And whether you see it or not, doesn’t make you responsible.”

“I can’t stop their deaths. Not even yours.”

“I know it.” She moved closer to him, cupping his face. “I have a curse of my own, Cian. From the Daoine Sídhe. I’m going to die before the sun rises tomorrow morning, so the man said. The difference is, I’m not going to waste my last day wishing I had more time.”

She pressed a kiss against his mouth. “I’m going to enjoy every last moment of it.” And she had no intention of telling him the rest of the story. There was nothing that would drive a man away faster than for him to feel cornered in a relationship.
Fall in love with me, or I’m going to die.
If that wasn’t pressuring a man, she didn’t know what was.

Cian didn’t question her certainty, but instead lowered his forehead to hers. “Then I won’t waste the last hours I have with you, either.” He lifted her in his arms and took her back to bed. With his arms around her, she fell asleep once again.

Cian eased off the pallet, letting Mary sleep a little longer. He left her a plate of bread and some venison to break her fast. Though she claimed she knew of her impending death, he wondered if there was a way to prevent it. Tomorrow, before the sun rises, she’d said. He struggled to recall every detail of his vision, but all he could remember was her lying in his arms before she stopped breathing.

She wandered outside, her eyes sleepy. A slight smile tilted her mouth and she held out the plate. “Thank you for the breakfast. Did you want some?”